Washed streets surrounded our home
Always freshly rained on
In the city of permanent green
Blooming foliage was caged in every direction
A west coast sun leapt to the sky periodically
Creeping light across our bow
Fine sailors on this voyage
We’d nod to the walkers, off to Robson or Denman
Life was a smoked filled pearl
Youngsters in a walk up apartment
Vancouver our shell
Liquor the solvent
Powder the shimmer
Pot the fade
Days to night
Night to Days
Two chairs with each
Ever one to preach
She had a lookI leaved through a notebook.
No comments:
Post a Comment